


Johnlock

by Deamonia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Literature, Multi, Romance, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deamonia/pseuds/Deamonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I recently started writing as a hobby and this is the first piece I published. I'm no native English speaker so if I have made any language, spelling and punctuation mistakes please let me know. I really appreciate detailed critiques.<img/></p>
<p>The story starts a while after the end of season three.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Johnlock

**Author's Note:**

> I recently started writing as a hobby and this is the first piece I published. I'm no native English speaker so if I have made any language, spelling and punctuation mistakes please let me know. I really appreciate detailed critiques.
> 
> The story starts a while after the end of season three.

It was nearly a year now. Nearly one year, 349 days in fact, since John had lost them. He lost his wife and their daughter in a complicated birth. It took him two months after the funeral to be able to leave their house again, even if it was just to go to buy supplies. Misses Hudson had come now and then and brought some food, but he didn't really notice. After the two months locked up, he had visited the grave every day.

Five months later he couldn't stand being in their house alone anymore, so he moved back in with Sherlock. They didn't really talk much, but they hadn't either before Sherlock fell down that roof, so it wasn't much of a difference. In fact nothing was. They just lived on the same they had before 'Reichenbach Fall'. That was what John called it in his block after Sherlock came back and John started to write again. Now he wasn't writing anymore. He wasn't even touching his laptop. Not talking about going on cases for sure. He just lived on somehow. He went shopping, to work, to the grave, and sat there in his armchair looking at Sherlock while he was doing things Sherlock does. Now and then Sherlock took the violin and played. But when he did, the tunes were always melancholic and sad as if someone had broken his heart. As if someone has broken the heart of 221B Bakerstreet.

Sherlock was still working on how Moriarty had managed to survive and come back. He was pretty certain, that he had destroyed Moriarty's network in his 'dead' years. But then the words of that taxi driver would come to his mind "There's others out there just like you. Except your just a man and they are so much more than that." But how could Moriarty be alive? Sherlock was sure that he couldn't! So who was pretending to be him? Maybe he had missed some clue. Some word somebody said... some tiny detail that could have led to the mysterious "others" that are know left and helping 'Moriarty'. But how could HE miss something? How could someone slip through HIS fingers? After all he was Sherlock Holmes.

Now and than Sherlock would take other cases, if they were really interesting, just to get his mind free for new thoughts about 'Moriarty'. And there was something really interesting now, more interesting than anything in the past 3 months, and for the first time in 349 days he asked John to come with him. Naturally he didn't just ask him, he just left the case file in John's armchair. He left it there and John did to. It kept lying there until, two days later, when Sherlock came back from a walk, it finally lay on his desk. When John came back from work that day, Sherlock was playing the violin and John didn't notice but it sounded just a little less said than before.

The next day they started working on the case without mentioning any reasons. It took them about a week to solve it. Sherlock almost didn't sleep the whole time like he used to during interesting cases. Instead he played the violin all the night. And with each day following leads all over town and questioning witnesses or suspects, the tunes sounded less heavy and sad though it still were the same ones as before. But nobody noticed. But than in fact somebody did. Misses Hudson heard it in the basement and smiled when she noticed, even when it woke her up in the middle of the night. But she didn't dare to mention it, when she saw her boys rushing through the hallway just like the old days, cause she was afraid to break the fragile happiness that was slowly coming back to her house.

After they solved the case life went on as it was until day 363. John stopped eating. He took a time of of work and sat in his armchair the hole day saying nothing. On day 365 he didn't even drank a cup of tea. About two hours before it was exactly one year Sherlock began to play the violin, but John didn't even look at him. In the exact minute it was one year the tune Sherlock was playing changed. The new melody was festive and joyful and and it felt ages away. During the tune tears started rolling down Johns cheek but when it ended he was smiling and one single tear had also left its trace on Sherlocks cheek. It was the melody Sherlock had composed for John and Marys wedding. Sherlock stopped took a deep breath and then played another tune. It was an airy, cheerfully jet calm one, 221B had never heard. It was kind of similar to the one before but very different at the same time, just as it saddened John at the same time as it lit his heart up. When it was over John asked with a breathy voice "What was it?"  
"I composed it for her." Answered Sherlock with his voice just as quite. And nobody needed to mention that "her" meant Watson's child.  
"I'm going now" Watson said more to himself than to Sherlock.  
"Should I come?" Sherlock asked and he added "I bought her favourite flowers, but if you want to be alone..."  
"No, please come" Watson was kind of glad not to have to go alone and he was sure Mary would have wanted it like that. "Would you bring the violin?" He wasn't really the believing type but he wanted Mary to hear that second tune. Sherlock just nodded, grabbed it and they went to the graveyard in silence.

In that night, whoever would have passed the graveyard, had heard that beautiful happy melody for at least an hour playing on repeat. Whoever would have even passed the grave of Mary Watson and Elisabeth Watson, had seen two men standing there in front of it side by side. One playing the violin, one standing still and listening with a faint melancholic smile on his lips.

When they came back home, they didn't say a word. They just sat in their armchairs and John was still sad, how could he not be, but jet he was happy to have Sherlock. After they have sat there a few hours John said: "Could you teach me playing?" And Sherlock just nodded and they fell back in silence. But this silence was the first time in 365 days John felt like he still had a home and he, still kind of, even had a family.


End file.
